The Heart
by Vampchick24
Summary: It has been two years since the Fall. Two years since John watched as his best friend, the man he loved fall. Two years he has been living in an empty flat, haunted by the memory of the man he loved. But one day John finds a surprise for him at 221 B. Slash pairing, POST REICHENBACH, angst, feels, and emotions


**The Heart**

**AN: Hello! So its been awhile since I have been on here and gotta say I miss it! Well anyway I'm back and here with a Warlock(Watson/Sherlock) oneshot. Its my first one and I'm a bit nervous as well as a little emotional, cause this show just causes that kind of reaction out of me. Anyway. Here you go, enjoy! **

**Love, VampChick24**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. Thank you**

John pulled his jacket closer to him in an attempt to block against the blasted cold London air. He walked slowly up the steps of 221 B; he was in no rush because why should he? There was only an empty flat waiting for him. John had been trying, but it was bloody hard to move on when his things and just him was still in the flat. John shifted the grocery bags to the other side so that he could unlock the door. He made the trudge up the stairs and was soon in the damned flat. John brought the groceries in and put the food away in its proper place. He put the kettle on and then walked out into the living room and instinctively sat in his red, worn out armchair. John pulled out the newspaper and shook it out a few times before it was straight enough then read. He knew that he was on autopilot right now; he has been doing the same routine for the past two years now. The words blurred together,

"Oh sod it all," John cursed as he threw the paper aside and hung his head and started running his fingers through it. His gaze shifted to the wall where the yellow smiley face was still on display, it was faded but the bullet holes and the smile still remained. John laughed silently as he had a flashback of Sherlock in his robe firing off rounds because he was bored; nearly giving Mrs. Hudson a heart attack when she saw the wall. The memory faded, as did John's smile, he looked at the armchair opposite him. It was gathering dust from neglect, John refused to sit in it to let anyone sit in it for that matter. Only one person was allowed to sit in the chair, or perch on top of it like he had done many times with a determined expression on his face and his hands clasped in front of him to his mouth. John was broken out of his reverie by the sharp whistle of the tea. He pushed himself up and took it off the stove, he opened the cupboard and took out two mugs and set them on the counter. John did not realize his action until he poured both cups and stared at them.

"Damn it," John muttered as he picked up his mug and instead of dumping the tea out he brought the other mug out and placed it on the table. John just watched as the steam circled around and sipped his own tea in silence. When he was finished he placed the cup down and just closed his eyes. He was exhausted from his job, mentally, and just tired. John felt the numbing sensation of sleep begin when he heard a knock on the door. John paused and looked over at the armchair expectantly but then caught himself,

"Shall I get it then?" John said reflexively as he got up from his chair and walked over to the door. He opened the door and becomes frozen,

"Earl Grey? Do you mind if I join you for a cuppa?" Sherlock asks casually and John feels his heart race as he hears that deep, drawl again. John takes a step back and lets Sherlock walk into the flat. When Sherlock enters John closes the door but remains there, his eyes locked on the man before him. He looked the same as he did that day. Pale skin, chocolate brown hair that curled slightly, defined cheekbones and perfect.

"Fascinating everything looks exactly the same…it's a bit cold but I always preferred it that way. John?" Sherlock paused as he noticed that John hadn't moved from the door. Hearing his name John snapped out of his catatonic state and he felt anger, pain, relief, and rage flare up in him. He clenched his fists and walked over to the man he loved, the man he thought was dead for two years and without a second thought punched him.

"You bloody git! You absolute wanker! You are alive! Two years Sherlock! Two fucking years I mourned for you!" John shouted, he was shaking as Sherlock lay on the floor, clutching his throbbing eye. He looked up at John, his expression grim, apologetic,

"John let me explain…" John shook his head and dug his nails into his palms,

"No! I watched you die Sherlock; do you know what that's like? To watch your best friend, the man you love die in front of your eyes and not being able to do a single damn thing about it? To see him as a lifeless crumpled mess on the pavement?" Sherlock had gotten up by this time and he just stared at John, his blue eyes full of pain as they watched the usually calm doctor fall apart in front of him.

"It was the only way John, I had no choice but to play his game. He had snipers on you, on Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. The only way to have called them off was if he saw me jump. He found my weakness and exploited it… I had no other choice John. He was going to kill the people I care about! The only people who have accepted me and who care for me despite me being well me…" Sherlock explained his voice was slightly cracked as he watched John pace back and forth. John pause and he closed his eyes, he had not known about the snipers. Sherlock took a few tentative steps forward but John backed away, he couldn't let Sherlock close, not now. Sherlock seemed to understand and his face fell as he hung his head.

John took a few breaths and stared at Sherlock whose eyes was starting to yellow and puff,

"Just answer me this…why?"

"John I don't understand. I just told you why…"

"Why didn't you come back? If you have been alive this whole time why didn't you come back?! I believed you were dead Sherlock but you weren't you were alive this whole bloody time! Just tell me…why didn't you come back?" John's voice broke on the last part and he started crying as all the pain, loneliness he felt for the past few years surface up. When he looked back up John saw the fear, the sadness in Sherlock. He was vulnerable a side that John had never seen before,

"I'm sorry John. Deeply, wholly, and fully sorry. I had to make sure that Moiaraty was indeed dead, that it was the end. I wanted to tell you I was alive, god I wanted to badly almost everyday but I had to make sure.I am so sorry for all the pain you endured, please know it was never my intention but it was the only way to protect you. I am sorry John, truly" Sherlock's voice was choked up with emotion as he stared at John,

"I understand if you hate me John, truly I do. I'll just leave but I had to let you know why, I am sorry." Sherlock said after a long silence, he turned to leave but found himself stopped by John's hand gripping his wrist tightly. Sherlock lifted an eyebrow and John just started at him,

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

"I thought that maybe…"

"Sherlock, I thought I had lost you for two years. Do you really think I'm going to let you walk out this door after you came back? You are mental." John said his voice was resolute as he had the ghost of a smirk on his face. The corner of Sherlock's lips quirked up into a smile as he slowly wrapped his arms around John and drew him close,

"Is this forgiveness then?" Sherlock questioned hesitantly and John shook his head,

"Not even close," he said before closing the distance and pressing his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock's eyes widened and he froze for a moment before he reacted passionately. Soon the two men found themselves in the bedroom, breaths ragged as their hands fumbled with buttons. Their lips were never more than a few seconds apart from each other or if not on their lips then on some part of each other's skin. Although Sherlock was slightly taller than John, John was stronger and was able to easily pin the half naked detective underneath him. The two didn't say anything except each other's names when the other bit into their flesh. John was straddling Sherlock's hips and took a moment to just stare at him. The detective's collarbone was covered with red marks that trailed up to his jaw then finished on his chest. He looked at John with his usual calculating stare but John could see the admiration as well.

"I missed you Sherlock. God I missed you," John said as he leaned over so that his face was a few inches from Sherlock's and their clothed erections were brushing against each other. Sherlock gently wiped away one of the tears that came down and kissed John, tenderly,

"I am sorry John. I missed you too," Sherlock whispered as his long, pale arms wrapped around John and his hands settled on his butt. The two kissed and as they did Sherlock slowly slipped John's boxers down. John sighed against his mouth and was soon doing the same with Sherlock's. The two had to separate for a moment to fully shed the boxers but they were soon connected again.

It was slow at first but when Sherlock felt John grab his hard on there was a shift and the two became hungry and desperate.

"I want you inside of me Sherlock. I need to feel you in me," John panted and Sherlock could not get to the lube fast enough. Once he got he coated his fingers with the liquid and then slowly inserted them into John's opening. John hissed and moaned as the fingers slid into the tight muscle,

"So tight John, God I missed this" Sherlock breathed as he began to twist them earning him a shout from John who began rutting against his fingers. His penis was hard and leaking already,

"Stop mucking about and get on with it already, please" John said his voice was broken and Sherlock wasted no more time. He slicked up his own penis and slipped himself into John. Sherlock saw stars as he felt the familiar warmth and tightness of John. He missed this feeling, this warmth.

"Move, please, Sherlock," John said and Sherlock started off slow but on John's insistence sped it up. It was a good thing that Mrs. Hudson was on holiday because the sounds that Sherlock and John were making would make an person blush and feel the need to take a shower.

"I love you John, I love you." Sherlock chanted as he took hold of John's penis and began stroking him,

"I love you Sherlock, oh god, oh god,"

"Come John, come" and soon John came all over Sherlock's hand and his chest. He had shouted Sherlock's name when he did and soon he felt himself floating. Sherlock followed soon after wards and with one more thrust fell next to John. Their breathing the only sound in the room as they just stared at each other.

"Did you mean it what you said," Sherlock said once they could talk again. John raised an eyebrow,

"What do you mean?"

"At the graveyard, I was there. I heard you speak to me, well speak to my gravestone. Those words, did you mean them?" Sherlock's eyes were earnest and John felt the air leave him. Sherlock was there, the whole time. He heard him. John closed his eyes, knowing exactly what Sherlock meant,

"Why didn't you believe me John? How do you know that I wasn't lying to you on the rooftop?" John took Sherlock's hands turned on his side so that he could kiss him. It was slow but also was full of love,

"Like I said before nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time," John said simply and smiled a little bit, his face was entertained and Sherlock didn't speak, he didn't have to. Sherlock pulled him closer and kissed him again, grateful that Moirarty had failed to burn the heart out of him.


End file.
